The Levitating Village
Chapter Eight - The Trichopathonauts
The sun shone brightly, highlighting the slabs that led to the door of the Seabrook Funeral Home. There was a distinct smell of treated death, the unique odour usually only found in Funeral Houses. There was also an attempt to disguise the smell with a potentially stronger deodoriser. It just marked the high end sickly sweetness all the more.
My fairly untarnished shoes and well worn heels clunked noisily up the concrete slabs, my shadow preceding me, stretching long in the afternoon rays. Lana’s white shoulders, slender and feminine, moved along to a hand that strongly but quietly thrust the doors to the reception area of the Funeral Home open. She, the stark and subdued dressed woman was followed by me, a tall thin man, my lack of muscle mass evident where the suit, though with tailored stitches, fitted to my form a little too tightly. It gave the impression of cheap and lazy tailoring. Perfect for me, the man who bore it.
We glided into the reception room like a well rehearsed movie, coming to a stop at a Formica covered lacklustre desk, with stacks of white and pink paper in varying sized piles, not one sheet neatly stacked above another. There was a computer on the desk that looked like it had been dragged kicking and screaming out of a skip in the Nineties. I examined the area before my eyes. They came to rest on a small desk bell. With one determined stroke, I brought the palm of my hand down onto the bell button, pulling it away again in mock celebration. The bell sang out, keeping the resonance of the note for a few seconds. To the side of the room, a thick crimson curtain parted to reveal a middle aged woman with very little makeup on her rough but kindly face; her hair was neatly gelled back in a version of a pony tail. There was a streak of grey in it from forehead to knot. She wore a trouser suit of pitch black, with white shirt and black tie. The only out of place object in her whole ensemble was the diamond studded ear ring in her left ear. Her eyebrows were plucked to within an inch of their lives.
“Hello, and welcome to Seabrooks at this difficult time. My name is Talullah. How may we help you?”
Lana jumped in. I sensed she had some Am-Dram experience in her past. Her voice was that for a medium to small theatre, “We are from off-Village. We came as soon as we heard about poor dear Dennis. I’m Fuchsia Heath, and this is my husband, Sol Heath. The grieving Brother.”
I didn’t answer at first. A quick poke in the ribs with Lana’s elbow soon changed that, “Oof. Oh, yes. That’s me. His Brother. I mean I’m his Brother. Sol. He’s Dennis.”
“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” said Talullah in professional tones, “I have to say, though, you don’t look much like your Brother?”
Lana sensed my apprehension, “They’re half Brothers. Same Father, non uterinal. He was a one, that Father of theirs.”
“Yes. He slept around a lot. Ship in every port. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had other siblings out there somewhere.” I think I may have gone a bit far with that one.
“Well, quite.” was Talullah’s reply.
“We wondered if we could have a private viewing? There are certain things Sol here would like to do for their religion, if you don’t mind?” asked Lana, maintaining the charade.
“Well, there aren’t usually private viewings allowed in cases like these, but I don’t know, it won’t hurt, if Sol needs to do some religious stuff? I have to say, the late Mr Heath doesn’t appear Jewish?” said Talullah.
I had to think on my feet, “Oh, right. His Mother was Roman Catholic. But Daddy really wanted him to be Jewish. So I thought I would cover all angles for him with the Man Upstairs, and for Daddy at the same time.”
Talullah seemed satisfied, “Understandable. I can’t see any problems with that, but for the sake of the law, I can only give you about five minutes. Is that okay?”
“That would be most agreeable! Thank you! Shalom!” I said.
Talullah led me and Lana to the corridor where the viewing rooms were. The corridor was odd. It was more like a converted garage that a place of bereavement, or a place of peace. I was half expecting a joke about the dead or something. That would have been highly inappropriate. There are some places even my humour doesn’t stretch. An unoccupied room with its door ajar, an open coffin waiting for its occupant on a table, sent a shiver down my spine. We walked past the wood panelled dividers on one side and a brick whitewashed wall on the other, until we reached a door marked ‘Private’ at the end of the corridor.
“He’s in here.” said Talullah, gesturing to the end room, “Do you need anything, Mr Heath?”
“No, I have everything I need.” I smiled in appreciation. I shut the door behind her and locked the door.
The room smelled of rotten eggs and pollen ridden flowers. The room was sterile, including the shiny instruments of embalming. In a corner was a filing cabinet. I opened it and sifted through the files. It contained mostly supply dockets and invoices. There was one draw however that contained photocopied death certificates. Lana pulled back the sheet on the corpse
“Can’t see any marks on the body, apart from the autopsy scars.” she said, “And she was right. He’s not Jewish.”
I furrowed my brow in thought, “Well, Doris Mortimer did tell me he was poisoned. I presume she was telling the truth.”
“She only wanted you to get in her knickers.” countered Lana, “She would have said anything for that. Any luck over there?”
“You know, looking at these certificates, I’m not sure this is the only time this has happened. There are at least half a dozen certificates that are virtually identical.” I said, pulling a random clump out of the cabinet.
Lana took one from me and examined it, “They’ve been doing this for a while?”
“For about four years, yes.” I said, checking my mental arithmetic.
A fist thundered on the frosted glass of the door, “Mr Layton, I know you’re inside trying to destroy evidence!” it was PC Gary, “Come out now and give yourself up! There is nowhere else to hide!”
“Oy gevalt.” I said, exasperatingly throwing my arms up.
“Don’t make me break the door down, Mr Layton!” continued Gary.
Another voice joined his. It was Talullah’s, “You better not, Gary my boy! That door was expensive!”
“Sorry Mom.” answered a resigned son.
A swish sounded behind us. A panel opened at the back of the room. A short stocky man appeared. He was dressed in a blue and white shirt, one too many buttons undone and the sleeves lazily rolled up. His hair was thin and short, with far too much product slapped onto it.
“Tsssst!” said the man.
Lana grabbed my arm, “Come on, Doug! It’s Mr Seabrook! Her husband!”
“That’s Councillor Irvine Seabrook, if you please!” said Irvine, “Quick, go through there! It’s a hidden way into the staffroom of my Hairdressers! “
Meanwhile, back in the treatment room I heard the remainder of the conversation between Mother and son.
“Gary! Look at this! Who’s going to pay for that?” said Talullah, after a loud crack and shattering of glass.
“Sorry, Mom.” said Gary, “Hang on, where are they?”
#
The tunnel was more welcoming than the room we exited. Even with its dusty damp smell and the occasional insect as startled as I was for getting in my face, it was preferable. When we reached the other side, and pushed through the clichéd tapestry, I thought I spotted Irvine hurriedly try and hide something that resembled a mask. With a beak like nose. I put it down to my eyes adjusting to the light that crept into the room from a skylight above us.
It was a Hairdresser’s Staff Room. Lana and I sat opposite Irvine. Irvine had a glint in his eye, “I know what you’re doing. And I know who you are. Don’t worry! I know you’re innocent! And I know who did it. In fact I know who did it at least five other times. I know the truth, and I’ve had enough of all this deceit and murder. Even the fires.”
“Fires?” Now, this was new.
“Yes, fires. It’s happened several times. For different reasons. The big one, the incident, where those poor people died, that was an insurance job. An insurance job that went wrong. And people died for it. I think that gave some people the lust to kill again, now that the taboo was broken.”
“I never saw this coming.” said Lana, as bemused as I was.
“And I know who they blame.” Irvine continued, “That poor boy. He didn’t do it. I know, because he was with me. I think that’s when my wife got involved.”
“This boy?” I asked, “Is he the graffiti artist? The one they were looking for before I became enemy number one?”
“That’s the one.” nodded Irvine.
“What’s so special about him, though? Why him?” I asked the room in general.
Irvine spoke, “Because he was witness to at least three of the murders. He saw it all. But he couldn’t tell. He knew no one would believe him, because of who he was up against and who he was. He has a small criminal record, see. Oh, nothing bad, just a bit of graffiti when he was younger. But it mounts up. No one sees what the crime was, just remembers the criminal who did it. It’s just not right. “
I had a reason to go on. I put a comforting hand on Irvine’s arm, “Okay. What’s his name, and where can I find him? Perhaps I can talk to him and persuade him to go to the Police with me and expose the inherent rot in this Village?”
Irvine seemed happy that I thought enough of this to get involved. He spoke much more brightly, “His name is Joe Butler and he lives in the Lower Village, what we have nicknamed, ‘The Dark Down Below.’ When the Village was raised, it made a split between us and what was considered the poorer part of the Village. The Lower Village is in such a position that the sun never shines there; it is permanently in shadow.”
“How on Earth do you get down to it? I can’t just go back to the portacabin and take a ride down?” I asked.
“Joe built a rope ladder into the side of the Village.” said Irvine, with some pride, “It’s how he gets back into his Village at night. It’s well hidden, so you may have to look around for it.”
“And in the meantime, I’ll sneak back up to the Country Club. I have to finish my search.” said Lana.
I became the Big Man, “No! You can’t put yourself in that kind of danger!”
Lana stared at me dangerously, “Oh, grow a pair, Doug. I have to do this just as you have to go see the boy. We have to. We have too much at stake not to try. Good luck and good hunting.”
Eventually my face relaxed with acknowledgement that she spoke the truth. She leaned forward and planted the sweetest of kisses on my cheek. She stood and kissed Irvine fondly on the forehead before she left.
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